


Seeded Words

by 9_miho



Series: Seven Made One [6]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV), Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Anthropomorphic Personifications, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Gen, Implied Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-30
Updated: 2014-11-30
Packaged: 2018-02-27 14:24:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2696261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/9_miho/pseuds/9_miho
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Reach liked his grandmother the best, everyone knew. Though she had a peculiar fondness for Mace Tyrell too. It was a strictly familial affection, gentler than the Queen of Thorns’ barrage of barbs, indulgent and a little fawning at the same time. She was sister and daughter and aunt and mother to him and perhaps that was the source of one of the few disagreements between the Queen of Thorns and her kingdom.</p><p>(“Jealous, Olenna?” the Reach would say mildly but with a certain gleam in her green eye. Grandmother would not have a barb but would purse her lips in a particular way. They wouldn’t say anything more as the air curdled around them like the skies before a storm.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Seeded Words

**Author's Note:**

> Consider this a counterpart to the previous story "Viper at Her Breast," as this is between Willas and the Reach. The Sansa/Willas pairing is implied.

The Reach liked his grandmother the best, everyone knew. Though she had a peculiar fondness for Mace Tyrell too. It was a strictly familial affection, gentler than the Queen of Thorns’ barrage of barbs, indulgent and a little fawning at the same time. She was sister and daughter and aunt and mother to him and perhaps that was the source of one of the few disagreements between the Queen of Thorns and her kingdom.

(“Jealous, Olenna?” the Reach would say mildly but with a certain gleam in her green eye. Grandmother would not have a barb but would purse her lips in a particular way. They wouldn’t say anything more as the air curdled around them like the skies before a storm.)

Willas watched because he was quite good at watching everyone else who watched him and who didn’t want to be watched.

The Reach knew all about it and smiled at him before winking very slowly.

(Margaery learned that particular inscrutable smile very quickly, to the septa’s dismay.)

Willas’s first kiss was to the Reach when she stole him away from his twelfth nameday party and pressed her mouth against his. “Keep your eyes ever open, little rose lord,” she laughed against his mouth, dizzying him with her scent of apple blossoms and rich earth.

 

…

It was after his accident, when he was feverish still from his accident, when he looked right at the Reach and asked her if she was real.

Willas liked the Reach but not because she flattered him or spoiled him with sweets and other treats. He liked her because he loved the place he was to govern in the future and he had to like her as well, surely.

“Are you real?” he asked hoarsely. “You’re one and not the land, you know. Are you just in our heads?”

She had tilted her head, her mismatched eyes no longer laughing so brightly. Then she reached out to grasp his wrist.

“Of course I am all in your head, Willas,” she said somberly, as she pressed his hand against her chest so he could feel her heartbeat. “But does that make me any less real?”

…

“No,” he said firmly to her, pushing her from his good knee. He wanted it though, what she offered to him so blithely. He wanted it because he wanted her just for her because she, the woman, was utterly desirable.

“Why? Mace did not mind when he was about your age,” she remarked mildly, not caring that her bodice was still mostly unlaced. He looked anywhere but at the valley between her pale breasts, settling on staring at the ceiling and a particular set of cracks in the plaster.

Willas then groaned as the words sank in. And that could have been the absolute best (worst?) thing she could have said to him to cool his rather pressing physical ardor.

“I do not ever wish to contemplate my father in that… circumstance,” Willas said. “Out – thank you for your offer, yes, it is quite gracious of you, but… out.”

“You and your brothers are no fun,” the Reach sighed, tying up the laces of her bodice. “Be more venial, boy, it will not harm you.”

Willas snorted as she struck the killing blow to his body’s demands with her particular choice of endearment and address. “You sound like my grandmother,” he said darkly.

“Olenna knows the way of things quite well,” the Reach said approvingly and left in a swirl of sea-blue skirts.

…

“She is a skittish little bitch,” the Reach said without rancor to Willas, handing him his best tunic.

He stared at her before putting it on as hastily as he could manage. As he tied the laces, he said carefully, “I am not that hopeless with women.”

She gave him a look that was far too like his grandmother (or did his grandmother learn it from her?). “Contemplate her as a once coddled pup in a healthy, rambunctious litter between dog and wolf. A pup that was taken around the proper time but given to a brutal, cruel idiot of a master and passed around until she is half mad from the fear, the pain and her own untrained wild blood.”

The girl that Willas had seen coming in before the snowstorm had hit had been tall, straight-backed and straight-faced. She looked like a distantly sad statue of a girl-Queen, hair painted and gilded, eyes like two polished beads of glass. 

“But she has some strength of mind and spirit,” Willas said. “To otherwise survive.”

“Or just enough luck,” the Reach retorted. 

“I would never call that luck,” Willas replied as he gathered up a cloak that still had a dusty hem but would have to do as it was sewn with a fall of Tyrell gold roses across green velvet.

The Reach pursed her lips. Then she said, “Regardless of strength or fortune, she might never feel joy in that frozen, scarred heart of hers. She may feel contentment, pleasure, something one could call peace. But joy? Joy very well may be out of her reach.”

“Then we can try to find something as close to it as we can,” Willas said as he ran a comb through his tangled curls. “We have time enough now. Even if it is only a day.”

The Reach gave him a penetrating look before she offered him a very different smile but only too briefly as she escorted him to the thankfully easy way to the sept.

**Author's Note:**

> The Reach I consider to be an even more expedient fusion of Margaery and Olenna. She’s a far better actress if only because she’s had a lot more practice. At the same time, she doesn’t know much about people. For example, when trying to seducing a young man, you probably shouldn’t bring up the fact that you boinked his father before he married your mother...


End file.
